


critter cuddles

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Mia is a rusty-spotted cat, Oliver is a coywolf, Season 8 compliant, Season/Series 08, Were-Animals Turn Into Actual Animals, Were-Creatures, William is a pine marten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: After Mia tells her father that she is not a were- like the rest of the members of their family, Oliver is surprised to find her in the form of a tiny wild cat in the bunker alleyway.
Relationships: Connor Hawke/Mia Smoak, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 62
Kudos: 145





	critter cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> _Trigger Warning_ : there is mention and discussion of killing and consumption of animals of the characters in their were-forms

A couple of days after Mia, William and Connor’s arrival in 2019, Oliver approaches his children one evening to ask if they would like to join him for a run through the forests in the mountains to the North of the city - in animal form. Their family is, after all, a family of werecreatures, or more accurately shapeshifters, with the genetically encoded ability to transform into a specific animal at will.

William instantly perks up and agrees excitedly, beginning to babble (in an adorable Felicity-esque manner) about how long it’s been since he’s gone fully pine marten and jumped from tree to tree. Oliver understands and echoes his son’s elation at the idea; as a coywolf - previously just a coyote before the island - he finds himself the most at home racing over free terrain, wild and free. Felicity does as well, although her serval shift is more accustomed to the plains.

He wilts a little remembering the amazing times he and his wife have had together out in the woods; she’s back in Bloomfield right now raising their four-month-old daughter, and Oliver’s heart aches with the knowledge that might never see his two girls in person again. Being separated from the love of his life and his children is devastating. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to cope with in his life - and he survived five years in hell.

Having William and Mia from the future here blew his mind but is helping him deal with everything; their presence is giving him hope that he might be able to change the future, avoid dying in the upcoming Crisis, and raise his kids with Felicity. And raising his kids means that he’ll get to teach them everything remarkable and incredible about being werecreatures.

Oliver knows what William’s shift is, of course, as he first changed into a pine marten a couple of days after his thirteenth birthday. He does not, however, know what Mia’s shifted form is. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he’s dying to know. He and Felicity speculated when she was born, given the infant’s adorable little growls and puffs and hisses instead of normal baby wailing. He wants to know if he and his wife came close to guessing correctly.

Disappointment washes over the archer, however, when his daughter avoids meeting his eyes and says in a rather defensive voice, “I don’t have an animal form,” with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

He’s confused as well. Because the were-gene is a germline mutation. It’s a recessive trait, requiring one copy of the were-gene from each parent. Samantha wasn’t a werecreature but she was a carrier for the gene, resulting in William being born as one. Both Felicity and Oliver are homozygous recessive for the were-gene so genetically speaking, Mia should be 100% a werecreature too. She _has_ to have an animal form. Unless… somehow her were-nature is suppressed?

Mia flees the apartment’s living room before he can ask, going to hide in William’s bedroom. (She refused to take Oliver and Felicity’s old bedroom. She even offered to sleep on the couch at one point. Eventually they compromised with a camp bed with a memory foam mattress in Will’s room.)

He turns to his son, who is watching his sister leave with a furrow in his brow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Is that true?” Oliver questions, dejected. “She’s not…?”

“Well, she has to be, genetically,” William replies, confirming what the archer was thinking. “I’m… not sure. To be perfectly honest, I’ve actually never _seen_ her in an animal form, so I couldn’t tell you. Mom never mentioned it. Connor might know. He’s spent a lot more time with Mia than I have. Sighing, Oliver casts a worried look over at his closed bedroom door. William sets a steady, comforting hand on his shoulder. “Just give her time, Dad. She’s not good with change. It’ll take her a few more days to get used to things and then properly open up. You’ve just got to be -”

“- Patient?” he runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah… not really the nature of a coywolf, unfortunately. Felicity was always the cautious one who kept me in check.” Turning around, he forces a more cheerful voice and says, “C’mon, we should pack the car ready for tonight. Have you learned how to hunt yet or should I head to the butcher’s now before they shut?”

The night in the forest spent with William is spectacular. He really is the most playful pine marten who just loves pulling on Oliver’s ears and trying to bowl him over despite being a third of his father’s size. Throughout all of the fun and laughter, though, Oliver can’t help but feel guilty he’s enjoying himself when he knows his daughter is holed up alone at home, left out. The next day, he’s determined to make it up to her; he makes Mia a huge protein-loaded breakfast and then spars and trains with her in the bunker all morning. He teaches her how to restring her bow, followed by a lesson in arrow making and sharpening. He can tell that Mia silently appreciates it.

Much later, once the sun has set and darkness has settled like a heavy blanket across the city, Oliver wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling restless. He rolls onto the floor from the bed into a round of press-ups, hoping that it will tire him out, but the itching beneath his skin doesn’t fade. He’s on edge, and the coywolf part of him is tensed and growling inside of him, desperate to emerge. Checking in on the kids reveals to him that Mia has left the apartment. She’s probably gone to the bunker to work-out. He might as well go and join her, since he can’t get back to sleep.

He decides to shift and make his way there on four paws. It might help if he can work off some of his excess energy. Writing a note to William to let his son know where he’s gone, in case he wakes up to find him gone, Oliver locks up the apartment and steps outside. It’s raining, but not all that heavily; there’s an electric charge to the air that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. A little rainwater has never hurt him, and the charged air actually makes it easier to transform.

The archer relaxes, allowing prickling heat to sweep through his body like a searing hot tidal wave. His dark grey pelt floods over his human skin while his bones creak and crack. Once he’s shifted, Oliver groans and stretches out, spreading his pads and raking his claws over the asphalt. Shaking out his wiry fur, the coywolf jumps into a canter and, sticking to the shadows so he’s not seen, sets out toward the bunker.

When he arrives in the alleyway that hides the secret entranceway to the garage, Oliver fully intends to shift back. They can’t make a werecreature-friendly entrance into the bunker without risking stray animals or actual wildlife wandering in. There’s also the risk of other werecreatures being able to break in, so he has to be in human form and use the biometric security doors. Just as he’s about to transform back, though, Oliver spots a shivering, soaking wet ball of fur sitting on a drenched cardboard box, in front of the bunker’s security door. It’s absolutely tiny, no more than the size of a kitten. He raises his muzzle and sniffs warily. The coywolf flicks his ears back in astonishment when he scents that firstly, it’s a werecat of some kind, secondly, it’s a juvenile rather than a baby, and lastly… it’s his own daughter.

Oliver creeps forward, keeping his large canine body close to the ground, trying to inspect Mia more closely. He’s quite honestly shocked, but more intrigued than anything else, because Mia flat-out denied having an animal form and… well, it’s clear she does. The harsh pounding of the rain on the ground disguises his pawsteps until he’s about five feet away, at which point Mia jolts in fear and surprise, hissing fiercely and swiping defensively with a small but sharp-clawed paw. She’s ferocious and bold despite her tiny size.

Even after all the research he and Felicity have done, trying to figure out what their genetics could result in Mia’s shift being… he can’t work out what species she is. Short reddish-grey fur covers most of her body with rusty-colored dark spots on her back and flanks. There are a couple of blackish streaks and bands down her spine, and on her face and cheeks; white splashes adorn her chest, paws, and chin. His daughter’s tail, long and winding, is almost the same length as her actual body, which is stocky and muscular. That implies that her species mostly hunts and lives on the ground, but is capable of tree-climbing, most likely to avoid predators.

Mesmerizing large green eyes glare at him like daggers, and small rounded ears press back against her skull, as Mia spits at him wildly. The only reason she isn’t attempting to run off is because she’s cornered by him. Oliver has no doubt that she would be bristling, if she weren’t soaking wet and freezing.

Understanding that he might be scaring her, the coywolf lowers himself to the ground, splayed out on his belly, to try and make himself look smaller and less threatening. _I’m not going to hurt you_ , he rumbles. _It’s me, Mia, your dad._

His reassurances don’t land. _Stay away!_ Mia snarls, coiling her spine and hissing, baring tiny pearl-white fangs. When Oliver crawls closer to her on his stomach, she curls up into a tighter ball and snaps, _Leave me alone, Dad._

Ah, so she does recognize him. The fright that was wafting off her before has been replaced by waves of embarrassment. Oliver snorts and stands, shaking his fur out. He darts forward and picks up Mia by in his mouth gently before she can figure out his play, and therefore before she can scratch the hell out of his muzzle. Mia is freezing and drenched; he needs to get her inside, dried off and warmed up, before she catches a cold or hypothermia. Fatherly instincts guide his every action, ingrained deep into him, and heightened by the fact that he’s been caring for the infant version of his daughter for the past few months.

The cat yowls unhappily, _Let me go!_ but hangs limply, defeated, when Oliver just gives a short commanding growl for her to be quiet. It’s a parent scolding their child.

He only picks Mia up in coywolf form so he can move her out of the way of the security door. He drops her carefully on a dry patch of ground, then briefly transforms back into human form to unlock it. Once it’s open, he quickly shifts back to scoop the cat back into his mouth and bound inside. The door snicks shut and electronically bolts behind him. The bunker’s lights automatically switch on, bathing them in green-tinged brightness, as Oliver trots down the stairs to the large lounge area, with couches and a coffee table. He and Felicity made their den in the corner here, four years ago now, when they first set up the bunker space for Team Arrow. The blanket nest is a little thread-bare but plenty of pillows have been added since.

Oliver dumps Mia in the center, where it’s bound to be warmest. She lands on all fours as all cats do, puffing up and hissing. Rolling his eyes at her attitude, the coywolf wades into the blankets and lies down, arranging his daughter between his paws so he can start dragging his rough tongue over her wet fur, cleaning her off while also removing excess moisture so Mia dries faster. He’s seen Felicity do this before in her serval form with William, so knows it works.

 _Dad, stop!_ Mia mewls, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. She sounds mortified. _Just - grab a towel or something for me! I’m not a kitten, I don’t need you to lick me dry._

 _This is the fastest way,_ he tells her, forcing her to roll over onto her back so he can lick her belly. It makes her squirm more feverishly and Oliver is delighted by the fact she seems to be stifling giggles, which means she’s ticklish. _And you’re the size of a kitten._

Mia nicks his muzzle with a claw warningly. _I’ll have you know that rusty-spotted cats are amazing ambush-style hunters and are considered one of the most efficient predators in the world! Size means nothing!_

 _Maybe one day you can show me how efficient a hunter you are._ Oliver nuzzles her back over onto her front and licks over her face, despite her annoyed protests. _You could have, if you came with your brother and I last night._

Her ears flip back. _Didn’t want you to see me like this_ , Mia mutters. _S’embarrassing. Like you said, I’m the size of a kitten. You and Mom are these majestic predators, William is small but he’s sleek and agile. I just look like a cute and fluffy baby._ She shoots him a bitter look. _And I know I AM your baby but I’m twenty-one years old, I don’t want to look like one. It-_ , she cuts off, hunching her shoulders.

_It what?_

_It cramps my style_ , she grumbles.

Oliver resists the urge to chuckle. Of course Mia would be worried about that. She’s as badass vigilante all her own, after all - and his and Felicity’s daughter, with two hero’s legacies to uphold. _I still think you’re pretty cool,_ he assures her, mussing the blankets so that they bunch around her tiny body.

He thinks he hears her huff in sarcastic amusement. _Thanks, Dad._ She pauses and then adds in a small voice, _Mom used to do this with me when I was little._

The coywolf tilts his head, his heart clenching painfully. He misses Felicity terribly and is reminded of their separation every time he looks at his daughter, who is the spitting image of her mom. (That explains why Mia is a feline were- rather than a canine… genetic imprinting proving out once again.) While William has openly spoken about Felicity since arriving, he’s had to drag information out of Mia. He knows that Felicity raised her alone at the cabin and had her trained by Nyssa since she was a toddler. He knows that Felicity vanished from future Star City a couple of months before the kids were time-traveled to 2020, apparently in search of him. He doesn’t know much more than that. The fact that Mia is offering to open up a little now means everything to him.

 _She used to groom you?_ he asks.

Mia hums. _I was a late bloomer when it came to my first shift. Fifteen years old. Mom was never worried though, she said that it was because I was a high-energy kid with constant adrenalin rushes and crashes. My first ever change was the night after we had an argument. I wanted to shoot that day with one of your old bows. I knew the draw-weight would be too heavy for me but I didn’t care. Instead of yelling at me, Mom told me that she wouldn’t let me shoot for the next month if I touched it._

A rumble of a chuckle bursting from his chest, Oliver comments, _I’m guessing you not only touched it, but tried to train with it?_

_I did, and I ended up hurting my arm. I got angry that she was so annoyingly calm about it and ran off into the woods for the rest of the day, Mia sighs. Mom found me at sunset in my cat form underneath the shed. She shifted and carried me inside to my bedroom and groomed me until I fell asleep. I wasn’t allowed to shoot for the next twenty-nine days - yes, I counted - but that was okay, because I focused on training as a cat instead._

Tentatively licking at his face, Mia clambers over the foreleg he’s been using to keep her in place. She digs her claws in slightly to clamber up over his head and onto his back; once she’s found a suitable flat spot on his flank, she snuggles up to him, bedding down in his fur. Within minutes, Mia’s asleep - and looks impossibly _more_ adorable as she purrs softly. Satisfied that his daughter is safe, Oliver finds himself drifting off into a slumber as well.

He stirs a couple of hours later, blinking blearily as another small, warm and furry body rubs against his side. The coywolf slides his head across his foreleg to nuzzle affectionately at his son. William, in his pine marten form, bumps Oliver in the chin and flicks his bushy tail over his side. It tickles his whiskers, making him nearly sneeze. William scampers up Oliver’s back and, blinking in surprise at his sister, winds his long body around her small form protectively, settling down for a snooze too.

The next time Oliver wakes, it’s because of the flash of a photo being taken on a cell phone. He opens one eye lazily, raising a metaphorical eyebrow when he sees that it’s Diggle, grinning from ear to ear several feet away with his son, Connor, also beaming beside him and taking pictures. It is irritating? Yes. But it’s also harmless, so he doesn’t mind. Yawning loudly in a half-howl, the coywolf stretches out, trying not to dislodge his children from his back. William rouses first, blinking as he raises his head from where it’s resting on top of his sister. He trills happily when he sees Connor, darting away from the blanket pile and zipping up the man’s leg and torso to perch on his shoulders.

“So that’s Mia’s animal form?” Diggle says in a whisper. “What is she?”

“A rusty-spotted cat,” Connor replies, equally quiet. Ah, so he did know about Mia’s were-abilities. Connor and Mia are… certainly very close. Very close… friends. (His version of his daughter is only four months old, he can’t think of 2040 Connor and Mia as a _thing_ for the sake of his own sanity.)

“She’s _adorable_.”

“Don’t let Mia hear you say that,” Connor warns. “Last time _I_ said that, she clawed my left arm and pissed in my boots.”

Oliver snorts. His daughter is definitely feisty, alright. Pissing in Connor’s boots though… isn’t that how small wild cats mark their territory - marking ownership? Hmm. He swivels his head to watch Mia as she awakens gradually, her ears and whiskers twitching as the two Diggles continue to talk about her cat form, William lazily flicking his brush over Connor’s chest as he clings to his friend’s shoulders. This ought to be good.

As soon as Mia is fully awake and aware of what’s going on, she springs to her paws and tenses while hissing angrily, all of her fur sticking up on end. But doing this causes her to lose her balance; she topples backward off Oliver and into the blanket nest. William releases a chirp of a laugh and scuttled down Connor to sit on his father’s flank again, peering down at his sister - who is now lost and buried in the blankets and pillows.

Immensely entertained, the coywolf rolls over onto his other side to try and nose for her, but is beaten to it by Connor. He slips up to them and reaches out to hoist Mia out of the blankets, lifting her up in the palms of his hands and cradling her to his chest. Oliver is astounded when instead of yowling and fitting in Connor’s arms, Mia hops up onto her hindlegs and rubs her furry head against the man’s throat with a fond purr.

“Hey, troublemaker,” Connor chuckles, mussing her mottled fur with his fingers. “Haven’t seen you in this form for a while.”

Mia mews tenderly at him. It’s not a sentence, just a gentle sound of affection.

“I haven’t seen her in it at all!” William quips, transforming from pine marten to human in the blink of an eye. “I’m her brother and she’s never showed me! Aww, Mia, you’re so cute like this! This is what Mom meant when she said there’s a softer side to you that I hadn’t seen yet? Look at those adorable little ears - _YEOW!_ ” He rears back, nursing a hand with a deep, bleeding bite mark on it. “ _MIA!_ ” His outraged voice is hilarious. “And here I was thinking we were making headway on our wonderful brother-sister relationship!”

The little cat looks smug and kitten-licks the blood off her claws. Then, in an impressive show of agility, she twists out of Connor’s grasp and makes a flying leap across onto her brother’s shoulder. Oliver can only imagine what a menace Mia would have been if she came to the forest with them last night, hurtling through the trees by her brother’s side. She butts William’s cheek with her head in apology, tail flicking back and forth over his neck.

“Oh yeah, yeah, _now_ you’re all cute and cuddly,” he scowls, flicking her on the forehead. “Hellcat.”

“Technically she’s a queen,” Connor points out. “In more ways than one.”

Oliver arches his spine in a stretch, and as he heaves himself to his paws, in a split second he transforms back into human form; wincing as his muscles protest, as his body always aches after a shift, the archer uses the wall to stand. John reaches out to help him steadily back onto two feet, which always takes some getting used to after spending a couple of hours in coywolf form. Mia perks up on William’s shoulder, ears swiveling around as her attention darts to him briefly.

“Why were you taking photos earlier?” Oliver asks Diggle curiously.

“Blackmail,” Connor answers immediately with a smirk.

The archer snickers. Emitting a noise of indignation, Mia slides down William’s arm and then attempts to jump down to the floor. His heart skipping a beat, Oliver hastily rushes forward to grab her mid-air, stopping her from colliding with the floor. She puffs up in confusion, blinking up at him.

“Be careful, please,” he tells her quietly, setting her down on the floor. “We don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Mia nuzzles up to his ankle and then a switch flips five seconds later, as she attacks Connor’s shoes with a high-pitched snarl. The man chuckles at her behavior until she starts nipping at his skin, at which point he yelps and tries to back away. He can’t try and toe her away, because she’s so small that he could hurt her. A minute later, Mia is bowled over by her brother in pine marten form; the two of them rough and tumble together back into the blanket nest, swiping at each other playfully with retracted claws. With a surprisingly amount of force, Mia pins William to the ground and uses one paw to push his face down into the ground, mewing triumphantly.

“Enough, you two,” Oliver says firmly, slipping into the role of parent effortlessly. The rusty-spotted cat and pine marten freeze, turning to look at him sheepishly. “William, stop antagonizing your sister, and Mia, stop beating the crap out of your brother. You know he’s fragile.”

William squeaks in exasperation and kicks at Mia’s belly until she acquiesces and lets him up. As he scrambles back to his tiny paws, the pine marten bodily shoves the cat. Rolling his eyes, Oliver bends down and scoops Mia into his arms before she can retaliate, and, like the excellent climber she is, she clings to his jacket like a koala rather than a cat. Connor picks William up, placing him on his right arm.

“Are they always like this?” Oliver asks Connor with a raised eyebrow.

“Eh, every Wednesday,” he grins. “Usually they’re bickering as humans though. That last time Mia accidentally spilled soda on Will’s keyboard… I thought World War Three was gonna break out right in front of me. It’s their way of showing love to each other. I mean, Mia punched Will in the face not long after they first met.”

Oliver doesn’t mean to laugh. He shouldn’t laugh at the idea of his daughter punching his son. But he can only imagine what William’s expression would have been like, and it’s hilarious. Mia looks up at him innocently with her huge green eyes, almost too adorable and cute considering she’s been accused of hitting her older brother.

“Since you guys have been here all night, how about we head to Dustin’s diner?” Diggle questions, pocketing his cell phone. “On me. Two fathers taking their kids for breakfast.”

“These two will have to shift back first.” Connor pokes the pine marten in the chin.

William is human in the next second, standing next to him. “Not a problem. I’m _starving_. Do you think all my changing back and forth between forms can justify me ordering pancakes as a side dish to a full English?”

“That all depends on whether your sister is ready to go,” Oliver tells him.

Huffing, Mia contorts her body so she can shuffle around and then slide down and off her father’s arm, landing lithely on the ground. She shakes out her beautiful fur in an elegant manner that reminds Oliver of how Felicity shakes out her serval pelt. Tail darting from side to side, Mia trots away to the training area, turning the corner and vanishing out of sight for a fleeting second. Watching her leave, Oliver exchanges a quick glance with Diggle, who shrugs lightly.

Seconds later, Mia returns - human, looking a little disheveled, and shrugging on one of Felicity’s old leather jackets that she must have snatched out of the lockers. She looks so like her mother wearing her old clothes; Mia and William didn’t come from the future with packed suitcases, after all, so they’ve been borrowing Felicity and Oliver’s clothes that they left in storage boxes in the apartment before running off to Bloomfield. His daughter’s cheeks are flushed and she’s keeping her eyes averted to the floor as she approaches them, probably still feeling embarrassed about her cat form.

She crosses her arms over her chest defensively and she lifts her chin boldly, when she sees that everybody is staring at her. “Well?” she prompts. “Are we getting breakfast or not?”

“Yes, we are!” William agrees enthusiastically. “I want pancakes!”

“I feel like it would be unethical for me to let you pay for my mine and my kids’ meals when we’re gonna be eating two or three portions each,” Oliver sighs to Diggle. “Shifting and maintaining your animal form takes a lot of energy. I’m presuming, of course, that Mia is as hungry as William and I. Probably more so, since she was in her form for longer.”

“Unless she snacked on a rat or bird something last night after she snuck out,” William teases her.

Mia turns beet red. “Y-You try and ignore your natural instincts when a huge fat juicy pigeon lands directly in front of you!”

William’s amused face flashes to one of horror. “What? _Oh my god_ , you ate a pigeon last night?”

“Wouldn’t a pigeon be like, twice the size of you?” Connor cackles. “And you managed to kill one and _eat one?_ ”

“Oh my god, Mia!” William shouts. “You’re a pigeon murderer!”

She instantly tries to deflect and points at Oliver. “Hey, Dad took down and ate a deer when you went on your outing! A pigeon is scraps compared to that!”

“And you nabbed a couple of mice,” Oliver reminds his son, smirking. “And a finch.”

Now William is blushing from mortification too. “You said you wouldn’t tell anybody about that!”

Oliver nudges Mia in the side, and to his delight, she leans into him, even resting her head on his shoulder for a second. Last night has definitely bonded them more as father and daughter. “I should tell you about the time he dragged a live hawk in from the balcony and tried to give it as a gift to Felicity.”

Her eyes light up with mischief. “I should tell _you_ about the time Mom got into a fight with a bald eagle when it tried to carry me off.”

“Wait, what!?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you guys for reading, i really hope you enjoyed xx


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